No Regrets
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Bart thought he had seen the last of Travis Cole years ago. Turns out he was wrong – dead wrong.
1. Days of Future Passed

Chapter 1 – Days of Future Passed

The knocking at the door was loud and persistent. "Bart, can you get the door?" Doralice called from the kitchen, where she and Lily Mae were making cookies for the church bake sale.

"Sure," he called back, already halfway there.

Bart Maverick was a tall, well-built man in his forties, with brown hair streaked with silver. He wore dark brown pants, a red shirt, and an unbuttoned brown vest with red and white stitching on it. The only jewelry he wore was a gold wedding band, and he'd worn that a long time. His brown boots propelled him forward, and he pulled open the front door. There stood Dave Parker, a good friend of Bart's, and the sheriff of Little Bend, Texas, and right behind him stood someone he hadn't seen in years, and hoped he would never see again . . . Federal Marshal Travis Cole, the man that had once tried to kill him and almost succeeded. Coles gun was drawn and pointed at Bart, and there was an ugly sneer on his face.

"Dave?" Bart questioned, wondering what this was all about.

"Bart, I'm sorry, but I've got a warrant for your arrest. That's what he's doing here." Dave's voice sounded full of regret as he inclined his head backward, towards the marshal.

"What's it for, Dave?"

"It's for murder, you idiot. Do you think I'd come all this way for anything less?" Cole spit out.

"That's enough, Marshal Cole. I told you I'd handle this," the sheriff turned around and looked Cole right in the eyes. Dave wasn't a tall man, but he had a stare that could stop a rattlesnake. The marshal quieted down.

"And just who am I supposed to have murdered?" Bart asked, still trying to remain calm. What he really wanted to do was put a bullet through the tall, blonde lawman's brain. There was no sense shooting him in the heart, he didn't have any. Bart learned that the hard way, a long time ago in Montana.

"Logan Doran."

Bart looked at Dave incredulously. "Dave, I shot him in self-defense. Almost twenty years ago."

Dave looked embarrassed, and nodded his head. "I know that. But the Marshal got a judge to sign a warrant for your arrest. I gotta take you in, Bart, until we can get this all cleared up."

"Until we can get him extradited to Silver Creek and hang him," Cole threw in. He was still furious that the judge would only sign the warrant and not an extradition notice.

"He's led an exemplary life," the judge in Montana said. "Let's give them a chance to prove his innocence. Notify me when he's in custody."

Travis Cole had trudged through life, with only one goal . . . find Bart Maverick, and make him pay for the pain and agony he'd caused. Cole was all set to marry the love of his life – Jody Mayfield, when Maverick showed up in Silver Creek, Montana and disrupted everything. He'd spent the next twenty years tracking the man down, having vowed revenge.

Now that Maverick was in his sights he had no intention of letting him go, he'd do whatever he had to do to see Maverick swing at the end of a rope. Even if it meant obeying a small town sheriff. As soon as they got Maverick back to Little Bend he could wire the judge to let him know the prisoner was in custody.

"Alright, Dave, let me tell Doralice what's happening. I'll be right back."

"I gotta go with you, Bart, so there won't be any accidental shootings. You stay here, Travis."

Bart headed for the kitchen, with Dave close behind him. Doralice looked up as the two men entered the kitchen, the greeting on her lips dying then she saw their grim expressions. "Bart?" she asked nervously.

"Go tell Bret that Travis Cole came for me. He'll understand."

"What?" She didn't know all of what had gone on in Montana, but she knew enough to know the name meant trouble.

"He's got a warrant for Bart's arrest for a murder charge in Montana," Dave explained calmly, trying to be the voice of reason. "I gotta take him in, Doralice, I got no choice. Better tell Bret to bring a lawyer with him. We gotta get this dismissed in a hurry."

Bart put on his coat and kissed his wife. "I love you," he told her.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

"Come on, Bart, before Travis starts gettin' nervous and starts shootin' somethin'," Dave grabbed Bart by the elbow and guided him back to the front door. Travis was still standing there, gun drawn, waiting for something to happen.

"Bring the horses to the barn Marshal," Parker ordered. He turned to Bart and quietly asked, "What happened up there? It sounds like this guy's been lookin' for you for a long time. You never told me the whole story."

"And I will, Dave, as soon as you can get Cole out of the jail. I'm not gonna fill you in until he's out of earshot so you can hear the truth all the way thru without him interruptin' all the time."

They entered the barn and Bart began to saddle Baron. Travis stood guard at the door until Dave called, "Time to mount up, Marshal."

The trip into town was probably the quietest one Bart ever made. Parker rode in front and Cole rode behind, with Bart in the middle. All sorts of feelings were swirling in Maverick's mind. The softness of his wife's kisses, the feel of his daughter's arms around his neck, the sound of his son's laughter, the temptation to turn his horse any way that would get him out of this position. He fought all thoughts of running, not willing to be a fugitive for the rest of his life. He knew he was innocent, but Travis Cole had a way of twisting the truth until even you began to think you were guilty. At least he was in the Little Bend jail, and not the Silver Creek jail. He wondered how long it would take Bret to get a lawyer and get to the jail. He wished that Cristian de la Torres was still alive; but Maude's husband, an excellent lawyer, had been dead for many years.

Before he knew it, they had arrived in Little Bend. As he slid down off of his horse, he thought about all the times he'd come to see the sheriff on one matter or another, never thinking he'd be here like this. The two lawmen and the rancher walked into the jail, and as the door closed behind them, Bret Maverick's horse skidded to a stop in front of the law offices of Smithson Talbet, Esquire. The ranch had some dealings with Mr. Talbet, and Bret had had no complaints. He hurried inside to talk to the lawyer hoping that their partnership would be a good fit for this situation.


	2. Smithson Talbet

Chapter 2 – Smithson Talbet

There was no time for niceties, and Bret didn't waste any. "Bret Maverick to see Mr. Talbet."

The pretty young blonde sitting at the reception desk didn't waste any, either. She gathered herself up and told him, "Mr. Talbet left word not to be disturbed, sir."

"Mr. Talbet will want to be disturbed if he's ever gonna do any business with the B BarM again," Bret snapped back.

The young woman quickly picked up on the name of the ranch and recognized it. "Yes, Mr. Maverick, I will get him for you." She rose from the desk and hurried hack to Talbet's office. She knocked once and opened the door. Smithson Talbet was reading a page in one of his law books. "Mr. Bret Maverick to see you, Mr. Talbet. He appears to be quite agitated, sir."

"Agitated, hmm? Send him in, Katherine. And find out if the sheriff's horse is here."

"Yes, Mr. Talbet." Katherine hurried back to the man waiting anxiously at her desk. "Come with me, Mr. Maverick."

Bret followed her back down the hall, practically clipping her heels as he strode behind her; stopping abruptly when she got to the office door. He gave her no time for introductions, just charged past her into the office. "Smithson, I've got an emergency."

Katherine closed the door and went back to her desk. She had no desire to hear any part of this conversation. She started to sit down and then remembered her bosses request. She got back up and went to the front door, peeking out and looking for Sheriff Parker's horse. Sure enough, the big bay gelding was tied up in front of the office, along with two other horses she didn't recognize. She hurried down the hall one more time; knocked once on the door and opened it. Maverick was pacing back and forth in from of Mr. Talbets desk, just as upset as when he first arrived.

"Is it?" Talbet asked, to which she replied a quick "Yes," and went back down the hall.

"Bret, I wish you'd sit down and tell me the whole story," Smithson begged in a hushed voice. "I can't help unless I know everything."

Finally, Bret took a seat in front of the desk and immediately started drumming his fingers on the desktop. "Alright, but it's a rather ugly story, and I'm not sure I remember everything," and began relating the tale of what was supposed to be a happy occasion. When he got to the part where he and Beau found Bart locked up in the jail, he broke down and had to stop. It was such a painful night for all three of them, not knowing if Bart would live or die. When it was finally determined that he would pull through physically, it became obvious that the man might never be right again mentally.

Sometime later Bart had recovered enough to close up the saloon one night while everyone else went to dinner; in the course of that event, he discovered an attempted robbery. During the robbery he was shot in the arm and returned fire, killing Logan Doran, the accused robber. It was determined by the marshal at the time, based on the coroner's report, that the shooting was plain and simple self-defense.

Smithson interrupted Bret's story. "Who was the marshall at the time?"

Bret had calmed down enough to give Smithson an unfortunate but true answer. "Travis Cole."

"The same Travis Cole . . . ?"

"One and the same."

"That doesn't make any sense, Bret."

Bret exhaled a long sigh. "None of it makes any sense, Smithson."

"And this Travis Cole is the marshal that persuaded a judge to issue an arrest warrant."

"Yes."

"And Bart is in jail now?"

"Yes."

"Judge Martin is in town Wednesday. That's the longest Bart should have to stay in let's see what we can do in the meantime."

Smithson and Bret gathered themselves and left the office, walking over to see what was going on over at the jail. What they found was a loud argument going on between the sheriff and the marshal. Bret and Smithson stood in the doorway of the office and listened intently. It seems that the judge who had issued the warrant and was supposed to issue the extradition notice was out of town, and no one else was willing to sign one.

Travis insisted that the judge had agreed to sign the document and wanted to take Bart with him right now; Parker said no, absolutely not. Smithson Talbet stepped into the middle of the dispute.

"Gentlemen, let's settle this argument right now. Marshal Cole, you have no right to take the prisoner anywhere. Sheriff Parker has jurisdiction until he receives a court order to the contrary."

"Who in the hell are you?" Travis snarled.

"I am Smithson Talbet, Esquire and as a representative of the court, I suggest you clean up your language, sir."

Bart's face lit up in a big grin. "Nice to see you, Mr. Talbet. I assume my brother has obtained your services. When can I go home?"

"As soon as Judge Martin gets here tomorrow. No longer than that, Mr. Maverick. We'll get a writ of Habeus Corpus and get you out of here."

"You're not takin' him anywhere," Cole responded.

Bart sat down on the cot in his cell and leaned back against the wall. If these two were about to get into it, he was going to watch. He'd put his money on Talbet. Bret wandered over to lean on the bars of the cell. "You okay?" he asked.

"For the moment," came the reply."

"You need anything ?"

Bart rubbed his chin and thought. "Can you bring Doralice to town tomorrow? I need to talk to her."

"You bet."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

Neither of them heard what was said, but Marshall Cole slammed the door behind him as he exited the office. Smithson Talbet was still standing, a smile on his face.

1


	3. Charbroiled

Chapter 3 – Charbroiled

Bart didn't sleep well at all. He tossed and turned, waiting for the sunrise. Not long after sunrise, he knew, Dave would walk across the street to Sawyers and get two breakfasts, one for him and one for Bart. And a pot of coffee, steaming hot. Then after breakfast, all he could do was sit and wait; wait for Travis Cole to show up and raise some more hell; wait for Smithson Talbet to come by and run Cole out of the office; wait for Bret to bring Doralice. That's what he remembered most about sitting in a jail cell, the waiting. That's all you could do. Although Dave did play checkers; maybe if Marshall Cole would stay away he could convince Dave to play a game.

Sunrise came and went, and there was no sign of Dave . . . or anyone for that matter. Seven o'clock passed by, then eight o'clock, and finally around eight-fifteen Dave appeared, laden down with two breakfast plates, little Susie Callaway right behind him with a coffee pot and two cups.

"I thought you got waylaid, Dave. Never known you to be so late." Bart told Sheriff Parker as he set one breakfast plate on the desk and passed the other through the bars to Bart.

"Yeah, well, blame it on the Marshall. I had everything all set to go and he came into Sawyer's and started raising a fuss. Sawyer had to cook two new breakfasts by the time I could get out of there. Coffee?"

"You know it." Parker poured him a cup and handed it through the bars. "Thanks."

For the next few minutes it was quiet, while the two men ate their breakfast. Bart finished his first and inquired about more coffee. "Sure, there's plenty," is the answer he received, along with the coffee.

"If Cole's here when Bret brings Doralice, I'll get him to leave so you can have some privacy. You don't know what time they're comin', do you?"

Bart shook his head, then realized Dave wasn't looking at him and he had to answer out loud. "No, I don't."

The morning passed peacefully. Marshall Travis Cole hadn't shown his face by the time Smithson Talbet arrived, and all three men were grateful for that. "Well, I'm glad to see that we don't have to fight with the marshall. I've got some more questions to ask you. You up for it?"

"Sure, but I don't know what more I can tell you. It sounded like Bret filled you in on everything."

"I'm interested in what you were feeling and thinking."

"The night I shot Logan?"

"First tell me about the night Travis locked you in the cell and left you there."

"I don't . . . I don't remember much. He clubbed me on the side of the head and I went down and out. When I woke up, I was in the same jail cell I'd been in on the murder charge . . . and I lost it. I'm not proud to say I vomited, then I screamed and yelled for Travis Cole; I shook the bars of the cell and cried like a baby; then I dropped to my knees and lay on the floor for a while. Finally I pulled myself up onto the cot and shivered until I passed out again. I don't remember what happened next . . . I think Bret came and got me out of there the next morning . . . but I'm not sure what happened after that for two or three days . . . and when I finally came to it was like I was living in a fog. I was that way for days."

"Understand a doctor was there and saw you like that?" Talbet persisted.

"Correct. Beckham Dooley. He's my brother-in-law now."

"Was he at the time?"

Bart very quietly answered, "No."

Smithson was taking notes and he paused for a moment. "Tell me about the shooting."

"There was a family dinner that night. I offered to keep the saloon open so everyone else could attend the dinner."

"Why?" Talbet asked.

"I couldn't face all my relatives. They all knew what had happened."

"So what time did you lock up the saloon?"

"I locked the doors and left about twelve-thirty. I got all the way to the hotel room before I realized I'd left somethin' in the saloon."

"What?"

Bart shook his head. "I don't remember."

"And then?"

"I went back to the saloon. When I got there, I found Logan Duran pointing a gun at Marybeth Canton, forcing her down the stairs. She was carrying a kerosene lamp, he was carrying the cash box that I had just locked in Jody Mayfield's office before I left. I ducked behind the bar and waited for them to get closer. When they did, I stood and told him to drop his gun and take off his gunbelt. He shot first – no, I shot first, and missed. Then Duran shot twice, and Marybeth dropped the lamp, which shattered and burst into flames. I inched around the bar but Logan came around the same way and caught me with a round in the shoulder. He had me right in his sights when Marybeth jumped out in front of him and took the bullet meant for me."

"What then?"

"Logan stood to shoot and I got him instead. I ran over to the bodies and Duran was dead, but Marybeth was still breathin'. The whole place was on fire by that time; I picked up the girl and carried her outside. She took a breath and coughed out, "Bret. I love him." That was her dying breath."

"The saloon burned down?" Talbet questioned.

"To the ground."

"Where was Duran's body?"

"Inside."

"So it burned, along with the saloon."

"Yes."

Smithson stopped note-taking and sat back in his chair. "Cole maintains that you ran back inside, found Duran still alive, and finished the job."

"That's impossible. By the time I got outside with Marybeth's body, the whole building was engulfed in flames. First of all, Duran was dead when I shot him, and second of all I couldn't have gotten back inside if I'd wanted to. Besides, where'd he get a story like that? He wasn't even there until the fire was out. Then he came down from the marshall's office to see what was left of the place."

"So Travis never saw Duran's body?"

"Not unless he saw the charred remains. And there was only one bullet in it. "


	4. Bad News Travels Fast

Chapter 4 – Bad News Travels Fast

Bart and Dave were in the middle of a game of checkers when the storm known as Federal Marshall Travis Cole finally made an appearance. Unfortunately, they were sitting in a most unusual position, with the cell door unlocked and open. Bart was inside the cell and Dave outside with the table holding the checkerboard right in the middle. "What the hell is this?" The Marshall roared, as he pulled Dave out of his chair and slammed the door shut, splintering the small table in half and scattering the checkerboard and checkers everywhere. "What kind of a way is this to treat a prisoner?"

Dave pulled himself up to his full height and glared at Travis. "As I have reminded you on more than one occasion, this is my jail and I will run it any way that I see fit. I've known this man practically my whole life, and when he gives me his word that he won't try to escape, I believe him. Now, you have a choice. Either you can help me pick up all the checkers you scattered, or you can take yourself down to the General Store and buy the jail a new set."

"I'll do no such thing," Cole answered. "This is a jail, not a hotel lobby."

"In that case, you can stay out of here until Judge Martin gets here later today. I'll send for you when he arrives."

Dave had no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when Jimmy from the telegraph office ran in. "Got a wire for you, Sheriff."

Dave read it over and turned toward the jail cell. "I've got bad news, Bart. Judge Martin's trial ran over and he won't be here for another three or four days."

You could see Bart visibly deflate. He wasn't the only one disappointed; the Marshall wasn't any happier than his potential prisoner. Sheriff Parker held firm to his decision about the checkers, and Cole was forced to back down or remain isolated in his hotel room for the next few days. For once he made the wise decision and headed out for the General Store.

Later that afternoon Bret arrived, escorting Doralice. She ran across the office and embraced her husband as best she could with the bars of the cell between them. "Check outside, Bret, and make sure that Travis can't be seen. Lock the door when you come back in and I'll unlock the cell doors."

Bret hurried over to look for the Marshall and locked the office door when he came back. "Nowhere in sight, Dave."

Parker unlocked the cell doors, and Doralice rushed into her husband's arms. Bret and Dave stood side-by-side and watched as the husband and wife held onto each other and kissed tenderly. Bart gently wiped tears off his wife's face and cradled her head against his shoulder. "I love you, blue-eyes."

"Me too, gamblin' man."

The staccato thump-thump-thump of Travis Cole's boots echoed dully against the boardwalk, and Bret moved to unlock the office door as Doralice hurried out of the cell and Bart pulled the door closed. By the time Cole walked in everything was back to normal; husband and wife were holding hands through the bars of the cell and Dave was bringing a chair over for Doralice to sit in.

"Here's your checkers," the Marshall stated unnecessarily as he handed the box to Parker.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" the sheriff asked. "Why don't you go have an early dinner and give these two some privacy?"

"Come on, Cole, I'll escort you to dinner." Bret was willing to put up with the Marshall to give his brother and sister-in-law some time together.

"Oh, no, I'll go alone." Travis remembered the first time he'd seen the hatred in Bret Maverick's eyes, and realized that the older brother was quite capable of murdering anyone that hurt his younger brother. Marshall Cole scurried out of the Sheriff's office. He might have been willing to joust with the sheriff, but he wanted no part of Bret.

"I think he's afraid of you, Bret," Parker commented dryly.

"I think he is, too," Bret answered him, chuckling to himself. "I hope he stays that way."

Dave pulled the cell door back open and once again the husband and wife found their way into each other's arms. "We're goin' out to smoke cigars. We'll be back when we see Cole comin.'"

"Thanks, Dave."

Dave and Bret stepped outside; Bret offered Dave a cigar, which he accepted gratefully. "Do you think Cole's got a leg to stand on?"

"Truthfully? No," Parker answered.

"Why do you think he tried to pull this?"

"He got fired from his last position. I think he blames Bart for everything that ever happened to him, and he wants to get even."

"That's crazy."

"I would agree."

XXXXXXXX

"And that's the story, blue-eyes." Bart had just finished explaining to Doralice what happened when he and Bret went to Silver Creek to help Jody get married.

"Oh, Bart, that must have been horrible." Doralice snuggled as close to Bart as she could get.

"It was. That's why I never explained it before."

"And he's held a grudge against you all this time?"

"For more than twenty years. Look, there's something you have to do for me."

"Anything."

"Mort Wilson is coming into town tomorrow to buy that pinto stallion. The price is a thousand dollars. Don't let him give you any less."

"But what about Bret?"

"Bret has to be in Ashland tomorrow to pick up a mare that's about to foal. Don't let Mort try to cheat you."

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will, sweetheart. I thought I'd be there, but Judge Martin's trial ran long and he won't be here in time for me to get out. If Mort gives you any trouble, any trouble at all, tell him I got called out of town unexpectedly and I'll be back on Friday."

"What if you're not?"

"I will be."

The door opened and Dave hurried inside. "Cole's on his way back. Doralice, come on out of there."

The Maverick's kissed goodbye and Doralice left through the back door. When Bret followed Travis inside, Dave looked towards the back and Bret went out the same way. Bart hoped that nothing would go wrong with the sale. He had enough trouble on his hands.

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	5. Fatal Attraction

Chapter 5 – Fatal Attraction

Three days passed faster that Bart expected. Mort Wilson came and bought the pinto stallion from Doralice with no problems, and everyone waited for the judge to arrive the next day. But Judge Martin didn't arrive the next day, or the day after that, and that's when Sheriff Parker sent a telegram to the sheriff in the town where the trial was being held. A return telegram arrived from the circuit court, announcing that Judge Martin had fallen ill and suffered a heart attack, and subsequently died. They also explained that it would take a week to ten days to find a replacement and that until the new judge arrived, the sheriff had the authority to set the bail for anyone they had awaiting trial.

Sheriff Parker immediately set bail for Bart at one thousand dollars. Bret rode into Little Bend with the funds and Bart was once again free, although temporarily.

Travis Cole was furious. He did everything but threaten to go out and shoot the 'escaped' prisoner, and Parker expected him to do just that. He sent his deputy Eddie Singletary out to warn Bart, and to remind him that he was prohibited from wearing a gun or even carrying one unless he was in fear for his life.

Cole ranted and raved for a while, then he got very quiet. He waited until Dave was involved in doing something, strapped on his guns, and left. It was almost twenty minutes before **Dave** realized the marshall was even gone, and by that time it was too late. Dave grabbed his shotgun, locked the office, and jumped on his horse, headed for the B Bar M. By the time he arrived it was all over.

Travis Cole was lying dead on the front porch, holes blasted near his heart. The porch was soaked in blood. Bart was sitting in the living room, bleeding from the shoulder and the wrist, while Doralice tended to him, and Doctor Petry arrived at the house right behind the sheriff. Bret, Lucien, and Maudie were on the porch, safeguarding the murder scene.

"What happened?" Parker asked, as Doc Petry went running past him.

"What do you suppose happened?" Bret replied.

"I . . . I saw it from my bedroom window," Maudie explained shakily. "I heard a horse and Lucien yelling my daddy 's name, and I stuck my head out the window to see what was goin' on. The marshall pounded on the door and yelled that he'd come to take my daddy back to jail, and when daddy opened the door Marshal Cole fired the shotgun. That's when I heard momma yell 'look out' and I heard our shotgun. The ma-ma-marshall dropped to the ground and I heard momma start crying."

"Did you see who actually shot Marshall Cole?" Dave asked the trembling girl.

"No, I did-did-didn't. Is daddy hurt?" She threw herself at Bret and clung to him, weeping the whole time.

"Did anybody see it? Lucien? What about you?" Dave questioned.

"I was runnin' and yellin'," Lucien explained. "I saw Cole come ridin' up, with his shotgun out and a wicked look on his face. But my head was down when the shots were fired."

"What about you, Bret?" Brother Bret was Parker's last hope.

"Nope," Bret replied. "I heard the shots and came runnin'."

Doralice appeared at the door and Maudie hurried to her mother. Doralice held her daughter while the child continued crying. "Dave, can you move . . . him?"

"Not yet, Doralice. How bad's Bart hurt?"

Doralice held the door wide. "Come in and see for yourself."

The sheriff followed Doralice as she ushered her daughter inside. Bart was lying on the settee as Doctor Petry bandaged his left shoulder and wrist. "How is he, Doc?"

"He's had more serious wounds. He's damn lucky, that's for sure. You'll have to give him some time, I gave him laudanum for the pain."

Doralice spoke to her daughter. "Go on upstairs, Maudie. Daddy's gonna be alright." Maudie leaned over and kissed her father on the forehead, then hurried up the staircase. Then she turned back to the sheriff. "What do you need to know, Dave?"

"What happened, Doralice?"

"I'm not real sure. I was headed toward the front room as I heard a horse and a lot of yelling, mostly Lucien's voice."

"What did you see?"

"I saw Bart walk towards the front door and open it, then just a brief instant of Marshall Cole pointing his shotgun at Bart and I yelled 'Look out!' I heard a gun fire and I saw Bart stagger backward."

"Who fired the second shot, Doralice?"

"I . . . I don't know, Dave. I guess I must have."

"You?"

"There was nobody here but me and Bart, and he was hit."

"Where was the shotgun?"

"Right by the door," came her reply.

"Do you always keep it there?"

Doralice shook her head. "No. Bart set it next to the door when Eddie came out to warn us about the Marshall."

"Do you remember anything else?"

Before she could answer, a soft moan could be heard from the settee. Bret had come in from the porch and now was sitting next to his brother. Doralice hurried over to her husband and clasped his hands in hers; Bart moaned again. "Shh, darlin', you're gonna be alright."

Doralice and Bret exchanged places; she sat and he stood. Parker came over to the settee and Bret immediately asked him, "Don't you have enough information to get Cole's body moved off the porch?"

The sheriff reached up to scratch his head while he answered. "Yeah, I guess so. Come on, come with me and we'll get him up on his horse. I may have more questions later. Doralice, you and Bart don't be goin' anywhere, you hear?" And with that missive, the sheriff and Bret headed for the front porch.

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	6. Third Times the Charm

Chapter 6 – Third Times the Charm

"Shh, just lie still, honey." Those were the first words Bart heard clearly, and they were his wife's.

"Do . . . Doralice," came out in a faint whisper of a voice. He had to make sure she was alright, that the shotgun blast from the marshal's gun hadn't caught her, too. Besides, there could be another one coming.

"I'm right here," she responded. "You're gonna be fine."

"Cole?" Another whisper.

"He's dead. You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Dead? How?"

"Never mind. Just go back to sleep."

And that's just what he did.

XXXXXXXX

Sometime later he woke again, this time to find himself upstairs in his own bed. He opened his eyes slowly; the first thing he saw was all white, and he assumed that to be bandages. As he raised his eyes his brother's face came into view, wearing a smile.

"Good to see you back, Brother Bart," Bret offered.

"Did . . . did I go somewhere?"

"Almost, but not quite." Bret laughed softly. "Not quite."

"Doralice?"

"She's here, and she's fine. She's downstairs with the children."

"What . . . happened?"

"You've been shot." Bret was trying not to give his brother any more information than he had to.

Bart wasn't going to give up asking questions until he got the answers he was looking for. "Who shot . . . me?"

"If you must know, it was the marshal."

"Cole?"

"He's the only marshal around."

"Where's . . . he?"

"I would imagine he's lying on Simon Petry's exam table about now."

"Hurt?"

Bret took a deep breath before he answered. He knew more questions were going to follow his answer. "Dead."

"Dead?"

"Dead."

"How? Who?"

"12-gauge shotgun blast to the chest. Who . . . appears to be your wife."

"Doralice? No."

"It has to be Doralice. She was the only one that could have shot him."

Bart tried to shake his head. "No."

"Bart . . . "

"No."

Doralice entered the bedroom and saw the headshaking. "He's awake."

Bret nodded. "And stubborn as ever. He says you didn't shoot Cole."

"Honey, it had to be me. You couldn't hold a gun, your whole left shoulder and wrist were full of shot."

Still the head shook 'no.'

Doralice placed her hand on Bret's shoulder. "Come on, let's let him have some rest. Maybe when he wakes up again he'll be more coherent."

XXXXXXXX

"Third times the charm?" Came the question in his wife's voice.

"Huh? What?"

"You've been pretty confused the last two times you've woken up."

"Confused about . . . what?"

"About who killed Travis Cole," boomed his brother's voice.

"Shh, not so loud, Bret. You rattle the walls."

"Sorry. Is this better?"

"Yes." Doralice waited for the questions from Bart, but none materialized. "Honey, are you alright?"

"Yes. No. Where was I hit?"

"Well, you got a shoulder full of shot, and your wrist is pretty bad, too."

"Is that all?"

"Ain't that enough?" Bret replied.

"What about Cole?"

"He got a whole load of it in the middle of the chest."

"Who?"

"It must have been me," Doralice replied quietly.

"No."

"Bart . . . we've been through this before."

"Doralice, you couldn't have."

"Do you remember what happened?"

Bart was quiet as he struggled to remember. Several minutes went by before he finally looked up with regret in his eyes. "No."

"Bart . . . " Bret started.

Doralice reached out and stopped him. "Wait a minute, Bret. Don't push him. You know he's had memory problems before."

"He was injured, Doralice, and one-handed. I don't think he could . . . "

"I don't think he could, either."

All three of the Mavericks were silent. The first one to speak was Bret. "Let's leave it alone for now. Maybe he'll remember exactly what happened later."

Bart murmured quietly, "I hope so."


	7. Questions, Questions, Questions

Chapter 7 – Questions, Questions, Questions

Bret saddled his horse and rode into town, hoping he could get some information from Sheriff Parker that would explain why Travis Cole had come charging out to the B Bar M with murder in his eyes. As luck would have it, Dave was alone and filling out paperwork. The sheriff smiled when he saw who it was. "Guess you came to get some answers."

"I did," Bret replied. "Sure hope you've got some, cause I've got questions."

"Fire away."

"I take it that you settin' a thousand dollar bail for Bart is what set Cole off."

"Yep. He ranted and raved, and threatened to go out and shoot the 'escaped' prisoner and that's when I sent Eddie out to warn Bart. Cole waited until I was busy with somethin' and not payin' attention, and he strapped on his guns and left for the ranch. Once I realized he was gone, I grabbed my shotgun, locked the office and jumped on my horse. I was too late."

"Are you gonna bring charges against Doralice?" Bret was hoping that the answer was no.

"Not at the moment."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I have to wait until we get a new judge and see what he has to say."

"Surely he won't want to prosecute a woman for defending her husband's life."

"I wouldn't, Bret, but who knows what a brand new judge will wanna do."

"Do you suppose . . . "

"I'm not speculatin' on anything." Dave got up from the desk and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. "You want a cup?"

"Sure."

"How's Bart feelin'?"

"He's hurtin', Dave. And he don't remember what happened."

"That doesn't surprise me, what with all the head injuries he's had."

"I'm goin' over to see Simon, see if he's got any advice."

"Let's hope he's got somethin' constructive to say."

Bret finished his coffee and set his cup down. "Alright, I'll stay in touch with you."

He walked across the street and went into the doctor's office. Simon came out as soon as he heard the bell on the door. "Bret, I wondered if you'd be by. How's your brother doing?"

"He's hurtin', Simon. Can you send some ladanum home with me?"

Doctor Petry knew Bret well enough to know that there was something on his mind besides ladanum. "What's wrong?"

"Bart doesn't remember what happened."

Petry shook his head. "That's not surprising, considering what he's gone through in the past. He'll probably remember, given time. Unless there's a reason for the rush."

"There might be. We're not sure what happened, either, and a new judge is comin' to town to look over this whole mess. It should be a clear case of self-defense; women usually aren't charged. But Cole was a U.S. Marshal, and you just never know what a judge is gonna do. So it would be really helpful if Bart could remember exactly what happened."

"So you've come to the conclusion that it was Doralice that shot him." Simon wasn't asking a question.

"It had to be. Bart was shot and there was no one else in the house."

"You mean there was no one else on that floor."

It took a minute for Bret to realize what Simon was saying. "The only other people were the children upstairs. You're not implying one of them shot Travis, are you?"

"Think about it, Bret. Belle and Maudie are almost grown. They would do anything they had to do to protect their parents, especially their father."

"But Maudie was upstairs."

"Where was Belle?"

"I . . . I don't know." Bret was silent for a while. "Do you really think . . . ? No, you must be wrong. Belle couldn't possibly . . . "

"I'm not saying she did. But she could have. Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions. Any conclusions."

Bret thought about what Simon had said for a minute before saying anything else. "So you're telling me to investigate everyone that was in the house."

"Right."

"Including my brother Bart."

"Exactly."

"Would it be physically possible for him to have shot Cole?"

"Probably."

"Can I see the body?"

Simon had been waiting for that question. Under normal circumstances he would have said 'no,' but these were anything but normal circumstances. After all the grief that Marshal Cole had caused the Mavericks, they had the right to make sure he was dead. Simon led Bret back through the exam rooms until he reached the coroner's office. On the exam table in front of them lay a body covered by a sheet. Before he showed Bret the body, he wanted to make sure that's what Maverick really wanted. "You ready for this?"

There was a slight quiver to the answer. "Yes."

Bret wasn't entirely sure he was; he and Bart had assumed they were finished with the marshal a long time ago. But this was something he felt necessary, for his own peace of mind, if nothing else. He nodded to emphasize his answer, and Simon pulled the sheet down far enough to see the damage done. "Okay, now I believe he's dead."

The doctor suppressed a laugh. He understood Bret's need to ascertain that Cole was finally, irretrievably finished. He pulled the sheet back down and turned to leave; he was surprised to find that Bret hadn't moved. "Is there something else?"

Bret nodded again. "I have more questions."

Simon was slightly taken aback. He thought he'd answered all Bret's questions. "Alright, but let's go to my office."

On the way, Simon locked the front door. "I don't want us to be interrupted," he explained. When they reached the office Simon sat behind his desk, Bret in front of it. "What else do you want to know?"

Bret worded his answer carefully. "Would Bart be able to pick up the shotgun before he shot it?"

"I doubt it. According to Sheriff Parker's account of what Doralice told him, when Bart was hit he staggered backward. She never said anything about him holding the shotgun. He would have to be holding it to get a shot off."

"Yeah, but she don't remember what happened after Travis fired. Bart could have opened the door with the shotgun in his hands already."

Simon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is that something he would have done?"

"It's possible."

"Sounds like you need to talk to a few people back at the house."

Bret blinked wearily. "Not tonight. We've all had enough for one day. I think bed is in order. Looks like you need some sleep, too."

Simon yawned while he shook his head. "The only bed I'm going to get is that." He pointed to a cot on the other side of the room. "I won't leave the body alone."

"Afraid somebody's gonna steal it?"

"I don't intend to find out the hard way."

Bret stood and stuck out his hand. Simon took it and they shook. The two men had come a long way since the days when they didn't speak to each other.* "Thanks for the help."

"Was it? Help I mean."

"Guess I'll find out eventually. Wanna unlock the door and let me out?"

Bret heard the door click as it was locked behind him. He had a lot to digest on the ride back to the ranch. Where was Belle when all the commotion downstairs was occurring? Was she capable of shooting a 12-gauge? Did Doralice pick up the shotgun and shoot the marshal? Or did Bart have it in his hands the whole time and manage to squeeze the triggers? Too much to think about. It would all have to wait until tomorrow. Right now the only thing on Bret's mind was sleep.

* To find out what caused the rift, please read 'Baby the Rain Must Fall'


	8. The Inquisitor

Chapter 8 – The Inquisitor

The next morning Bret was up with the sunrise. He grabbed a cup of coffee, kissed Ginny and Gracie goodbye, and headed for the bunkhouse. Lucien was outside already saddling his horse. Bret stopped him. "I need you to take over my job for right now. I've got a lot of questions to ask and I need to get it done. By the way, did I ever make you foreman?"

"Uh, no," came the reply.

"Well, you are. As of now. Extra forty dollars a month comes with it. I take it you have no problem with that?"

Lucien was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"No sir, boss, not a problem in the world."

"Alright, get your gear moved over into the foreman's house, and then take over my job. I'll get back to you when I'm back."

"How's Bart this morning?"

"Goin' to see him now. I'll let you know later."

Bret hurried up to his brother's and knocked at the back door. Lily Mae let him in and offered him coffee, which he accepted as Doralice came into the kitchen. "How's Bart this morning?"

"That depends on whether you brought any ladanum or not."

Bret reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a full bottle. "Will this do?"

"So you went to Simon's last night?"

He nodded and sat down. "We had a long talk. He gave me a lot to think about."

"Such as?"

"Go take that to Bart. If he needs ladanum, he's really hurtin'. We can talk when you come back."

Doralice's leaving gave Bret a chance to talk to Lily Mae. He remembered Simon's admonishment to not take anything for granted. "Lily Mae, where were you yesterday when Bart was shot?"

"I was in the kitchen, Mister Bret, where I usually am."

"Didn't you hear all the racket that was going on?"

"Yes, sir, I did," Lily answered, without any hesitation.

"And what did you do about it?"

"Why, nothin' at all. There's always some kind of goin's on around here. Tweren't nothin' unusual."

"Even when you heard the shotgun blast?"

"Well sir, I had a bowl in my hands, and the noise startled me so that I dropped the bowl. Then when the second shot came I ran for the front door."

Bret pushed on. "And what did you find when you got there?"

"I couldn't see outside, but by the time I got to the door I saw Mr. B lyin' on the floor, with the misses hoverin' over him."

"And where was the shotgun? Bart's, I mean?"

"I don't rightly know. I don't remember seein' it."

"Think back, Lily. Was it by Doralice, or next to Bart?"

Lily Mae shook her head. "I don't remember, honest, Mister Bret."

"Okay, did you see anybody else? Lucien, maybe? Any of the children?"

"No sir, not a soul."

"You're sure?"

Lily made the sign of the cross on her bosom. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Doralice came back downstairs, humming. "That should hold him for a while. He's asleep again." She looked at the two people in her kitchen. "Are you giving Lily Mae the third degree?"

"Nope. Just askin' some questions. You got a few minutes?"

"Sure, but I don't know how much help I'll be. You want some more coffee?" She asked while pouring herself a cup.

"Yes, ma'am, fill 'er up."

Doralice finished with the coffee and sat down with a cup of her own. "What do you want to know?"

"When you were tending to Bart, before Simon got here, where was the shotgun?"

"I don't remember, Bret."

"Did you see any of the children? Belle, perhaps?"

The mother of six took a few minutes to think. Had she seen Belle? Or any of her babies? Would she remember if she had? Finally she gave Bret the only answer she could as she shook her head emphatically. "I'm sorry, Bret, I just don't remember."

"Who was the first person you saw besides Simon?"

"That's easy. Lily Mae came running in from the kitchen."

Bret took another swallow of coffee and finished the cup. "Anything else you can think of, Doralice?"

The still-beautiful blonde shook her head. "No. Nothing." She hesitated before continuing."Bret, is Dave gonna arrest me?"

"I don't know, Doralice. I think if it was up to him alone, he wouldn't. But a new judge is comin' to town, probably bringin' a prosecutor with him, and he might. Cole was a U.S. Marsal, after all. Even if he was a crazy one. We just have to wait and see."

Suddenly there was a loud 'thump' heard upstairs, followed rapidly by a faint 'damn it.' Doralice took off running for the stairs with Bret rapidly following her. When they got to the Maverick's bedroom, they found Bart on the floor next to the bed, all tangled up in the blankets. "Get me out of this mess!" He pleaded.

"Well, that's one way to wake him up," Bret remarked as he and Doralice did their best to untangle the wounded man. As soon as they got him unwrapped Bret picked him up, against Bart's protests, and put him back in bed where he belonged. Doralice gathered the blankets and straightened them on the bed, making sure that Bart was nice and warm.

"Do you want more ladanum?" she asked.

"No," Bart stated emphatically. "I hate the taste of that stuff."

"I know, darlin' but you were in pain."

"Well," Bret began, "if you're not takin' any more medicine, you should be awake to answer some questions."

"Are you the chief investigator now?" The injured man asked.

"I'm askin' the questions that Parker's gonna ask."

A long sigh accompanied the answer. "Alright, go ahead. But you might not like the answers."

"You remember Eddie Singletary comin' to the ranch to warn you about Cole?"

"Yeah."

"Is that when you put the shotgun by the door?"

"Yeah."

"What do you remember after that?"

"I heard a horse outside, and Lucien was hollerin' for all he was worth."

"What was he hollerin'?"

"Not sure, exactly. Somethin' about lookout and Cole."

"Did you pick up the gun first or open the door first?"

"The gun."

Bret paused before he asked the next question. He needed to know exactly what Bart remembered, but he didn't want to push too hard. "And then you opened the door?"

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

"I saw the barrels of a shotgun."

"And then?"

"Then I got hit by a load of buckshot."

Again Bret paused. "What do you remember after that?"

"Nada."

"You're sure? You don't remember pulling the triggers on the shotgun?"

"No. Did I?"

"Somebody did. That's what we're trying to determine. What's the next thing you remember?"

"Simon. I heard Simon tellin' me to swallow, and then the taste of that awful medicine."

"And then?"

Doralice interrupted. "That's enough, Bret, he can barely keep his eyes open. Let the man sleep and you can finish your questions later."

"Alright, partner, the lady is right. Go to sleep, I'll be back later."

Bart's eyes slid shut as his wife and brother left the room. Once in the hallway, Bret stopped Doralice. "Wait, I need to talk to Maudie and Belle."

"You can do that after lunch," Doralice informed him.

"I am kinda hungry. I skipped breakfast."

"Then it's settled. We'll have lunch before the inquisitions continue. But I'm givin' you fair warning, I'm not gonna let you upset the girls."

"Fair enough. We'll see what Lily Mae's been thinkin' about for lunch."

"I think it's venison stew."

Bret gave a little laugh. "Sounds delicious."

1


	9. I Saw What You Did

Chapter 9 – I Saw What You Did

"I hope you wasn't disappointed with the stew, Mr. Bret. You only had three helpings of it," Lily Mae cajoled.

"Only three helpings," Bret repeated as he patted his stomach. "I couldn't eat another bite."

"What about dessert?"

"Dear God, no I'd burst, no doubt about it."

Doralice stood up from the table. "I'm gonna take a small bowl up to Bart and see if I can get him to eat it. It's always been one of his favorites." She began to prepare a bowl and then stopped. "I don't want you talking to the girls until I can be there."

Bret took the opportunity to go find Lucien, since Doralice was attempting to get some food into Bart. He discovered the newly-promoted foreman in the 'maternity' barn, where a pregnant Cross-breed mare was about to foal. "How's everything goin'?"

"Good, so far. I'd say we were gonna have a brand new resident any minute. Did you get to see Bart?"

Bret nodded. "I did, and if we could keep him in bed, everything would be good." He explained what he meant, and the two men had a good laugh. Just then the mare's water broke, and Bret went back up to the house as Lucien prepared to assist her, if necessary.

He found Doralice in the kitchen and waited while she and Lily Mae discussed supper. "Are you gonna stay for supper?" she asked Bret.

"No ma'am. I promised Ginny I'd be home for supper. Are you ready to go upstairs?"

"Let's go. Bart's asleep again."

Bret led the way upstairs and to the twins room. Belle was sitting by the window, quietly reading a book, while Maudie was holding Lily Beth and showing her how to put a bonnet on her baby doll. "Ladies, can I have your attention for a few minutes?" Bret asked. "I've got some things I need to talk to you about."

"Can Lily Beth stay?" Maudie asked.

"No, I think she better got find Breton," Doralice suggested.

"Uh oh, it's about daddy," Belle opinioned as she set down her book.

"It is, but it's nothing bad. I just want to know where each of you were and what you saw yesterday."

"I already said," Maudie explained.

"Tell me again, Maudie," Bret requested.

"I heard a horse comin', and Lucien yellin' for daddy, and I got up and went to the window to see what all the racket was about. I saw Lucien runinn' for the house, about ten feet away. Marshal Cole was gettin' off his horse with his shotgun in his hand. I heard him pound on the door, yellin' that daddy was under arrest. Next thing I heard was momma yell 'lookout' and the Marshal's shotgun go off and . . ."

'"Wait, Maudie. How do you know it was the Marshal's shotgun and not your father's?" Bret stopped her in mid-sentence.

"Because ours makes a funny little clicking noise when it gets fired. This one didn't. Then I heard our shotgun go off."

"Did you hear the clicking noise?"

"Yes, I did. Then I ran downstairs. Daddy was lying on the floor, momma was bent over him. The marshal was on the porch."

"What position was the marshal in?"

"He was flat on his stomach, face down."

"Where was your daddy's shotgun?"

"I . . . I don't know, Uncle Bret. I didn't see it."

"Didn't see it or didn't look for it?"

"I didn't see it."

Belle had sat quietly by the window while Bret questioned Maudie, but now she spoke up. "Why do you have all these questions?"

"We're tryin' to find out what happened, Belle. The sheriff's gonna have the same questions. I'm just tryin' to find out before he does, that's all. Where were you, Miss Belle?"

Instead of answering her uncle, Belle slid down off the chair and stood, with her hands on her hips. "The marshal shot daddy. Then the marshal got shot. That's all." With that she ran before anyone could stop her.

"Belle! Come back here!" her mother called after her, but it was in vain. Doralice turned her attention to her oldest twin. "Maudie, where was your sister when all this happened?"

"I don't know, Momma. I didn't see her."

Doralice and Bret huddled together in the corner of the room. "Any idea where Belle was when Bart was shot?" Bret asked.

"None," came the answer.

"We have to find out."

"Why, Bret? I know that she wasn't downstairs with us."

Bret huffed out a quick reply. "Because if we don't know where she was, somebody is sure to ask. And we'd best make sure there ain't no surprises. Besides, she might have seen something."

Doralice gave a resigned shrug of her shoulders. "Alright. But let me look for her. You go on home to your wife and children. And give Ginny a hug for me."

"I'll come back after supper."

She shook her head. "Stay home. Spend some time with your family. Come back tomorrow."

"Alright. Take good care of that brother of mine. I'll see you tomorrow." Bret kissed the top of her head and was gone.

"Belle, you can come out of the closet now. Your uncle is gone."

Slowly the closet door opened and Belle emerged. "Momma, how did you know I was in there?"

Doralice laughed. "I have eyes in the back of my head. All mothers have them. Why did you hide from your uncle?"

Belle just shook her head. "I don't want to talk to him."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because of what I saw."


	10. No More Secrets

Chapter 10 – No More Secrets

"I thought she'd never leave," Belle told her twin as soon as their mother was gone.

"You have to tell them what you saw, Belle," Maudie proclaimed. "You can't keep hiding it."

"It's gonna get daddy in trouble!" was the distraught reply.

"But it's the truth, and why would it get daddy in trouble?"

Belle hesitated before she answered. "Because he shot the marshal."

"It was in self-defense," Maude countered.

"They're not gonna believe it."

"You have to tell them. If you don't, I will."

"Alright, alright, I'll tell momma after supper," Belle finally acquiesced. "But I still think she's not gonna believe me."

Belle was proven correct when she finally told her mother after supper. "Momma, Belle has something to tell you," Maudie blurted out, not waiting for Belle to start.

Doralice glanced at her oldest daughter. "Oh, she does?" She turned her attention to Belle. "You want to tell me something, Belle?"

"Momma, I . . . well, I want to tell you what I saw."

"Alright, I'm listening."

Several minutes of silence followed, before Belle finally blurted out, "Daddy shot the marshal."

"He couldn't have, Belle. You must be mistaken," Doralice was quick to respond.

"No, momma, I'm not. Daddy shot Marshal Cole, after the Marshal shot him."

"But how . . .?"

"I don't know. I just know that it was Daddy. I saw him drop the gun. Then he fell."

Doralice was all set to argue with her daughter when she stopped. "Will you tell that to your Uncle Bret tomorrow?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you have to."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright, go on up and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a minute." The two girls hurried upstairs, while Doralice tried to determine if what Belle had told her could be true. Was it possible? Was that why she couldn't remember firing the shotgun? But how? Bart had already been hit by Cole's shotgun blast, how was he capable of picking up the shotgun and firing it? That gave her pause to think. Maybe he didn't have to pick it up. Maybe he had it in his hands, and all he had to do was pull the triggers. But she didn't remember seeing him holding it. And he couldn't have picked it up after he was shot. Her head was spinning and she was halfway up the stairs when she decided to leave it to Bret tomorrow and stop in to see how her husband was tonight.

She was surprised to find Bart awake, just staring out into space. "Hiya, gamblin' man. Looks like you're doin' some deep thinkin'." She sat down on his bed and took one of his hands in hers. "How's the shoulder feelin'?"

"Not too bad," he replied, hopeful that she wouldn't insist on his taking any more laudanum. "Putting the girls to bed?"

"Yes, even though they're too big for me to be doing that. I guess they'll always be my babies."

"Mine too, even after they get married and go off to make a new life for themselves. What's got you so worried? There's wrinkles in your forehead that weren't there yesterday."

"Bart, do you remember anything about the shooting? Anything at all?"

"Not much, blue-eyes. I remember Cole pounding on the door, something about I was under arrest, and then I opened the door and the next thing I knew I saw shotgun barrels and heard the gun go off. Then, nothin' but pain."

"Did you have our gun in your hands when you opened the door?"

"I ain't sure. Do you think I shot him?"

The blonde thought about it for a minute. "I don't know, baby. Bret's comin' back tomorrow morning. Maybe you'll remember by then." She tucked the blankets in around him and stood, then kissed him on the forehead. "Goodnight. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, blue eyes. I love you."

"I love you too, gamblin' man."

Doralice closed the door as she left and went down the hall to Maudie and Belle's bedroom. She could hear the girls giggling as she got close. "Alright you two, what's all the noise?"

Lily Beth came running from her sisters' room, and the giggling stopped. "What were you doing to that child?"

"Teasing her," Maudie answered.

"Tickling her," Belle replied.

"Well, neither one of those is nice. Time for bed, you two instigators."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, momma."

"Momma, is Uncle Bret really comin' back tomorrow mornin'?" Maudie asked.

"Yes, he is. We'll get this all straightened out then."

"Goodnight, Momma."

"Night Maudie."

"Goodnight, Momma, I love you."

"Goodnight, Belle. I love you both very much."

Doralice leaned over and turned off the kerosene lamp, then closed the door. Fits of giggling broke out before she could get away and she opened the door back up. "No more giggling." All giggling instantly ceased, and Doralice made her way back downstairs. She pulled an afghan from the arm of the settee and laid down herself. She was so exhausted that she fell asleep almost immediately, and dreamt about Marshal Cole chasing her all night.

1


	11. A Shot in the Dark

Chapter 11 – A Shot in the Dark

Bret knocked on the back door around ten o'clock, with a smile on his face. Lily Mae opened the door and handed him coffee, and remarked, "You and Miss Ginny busy this morning?"

Bret just grinned and drank the coffee. "Is Doralice up?"

"Yes, sir, Miss Doralice and the twins are out front gardening. Go on out, they were expecting you a while ago."

"I was busy," Bret answered.

"I just bet you were," Lily Mae mumbled.

Bret went out the front door to find all three ladies on their hands and knees planting a whole new flower bed. "Good morning, ladies," he called out as he stepped outside.

A chorus of "good morning" answered him.

"Give us a few minutes to finish this, would you?" Doralice asked.

"No problem," Bret answered, "I'll just go up and see Bart. How is he this morning, by the way?"

"Feelin' better," Doralice responded.

Bret bounded up the stairs and stopped at Bart's room. To Bret's surprise his brother was sitting up in bed, trying to hold a book and read. "Well, you look a whole lot better. How do you feel?"

"Is that coffee in your cup? Please tell me you've got some left. Doralice wouldn't let me have any."

"Not much, but you're welcome to it," Bret responded as he handed what was left to his brother.

Bart drank greedily, and a smile of satisfaction spread across his face. "I don't suppose you'd get me some more?"

"Nope, but I will convince Doralice to let you have some with lunch. How's the shoulder doin' this morning?"

"Better. I suppose you're here to pick my brain."

The older brother nodded. "I wanted to talk to you before I spoke to the girls again."

"The girls? Maudie and Belle? What are you takin' to them about?"

"What they saw and heard."

"Leave 'em alone, Bret, they've got nothin' to do with this."

"Au Contraire, dear brother, they have a lot to do with this."

"Dear God, you sound like Buckley."

"Nevertheless, the twins are involved."

Bart handed the empty cup back to his brother. "How?"

"Maudie saw part of what happened, and Belle knows something she has yet to divulge."

"What could she possibly know?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to find out."

"Bret . . . " Bart started to protest, as Bret got up to leave the room.

"I'll talk to you later, Bart."

Bret hurried out and down the hall, where he took a seat and waited in the twins room. Within a few minutes the three ladies came in, laughing and giggling. Good to see them in a better mood than yesterday. "Well, you three seem to be having a fine time."

"Yes, we were. We needed it," Doralice explained. The girls sat on their beds and Doralice sat next to her brother-in-law. "Belle, honey, tell your Uncle what you told me last night."

"I . . . I . . . saw . . . Daddy shoot Marshal Cole, not Momma."

Bret's first impulse was to jump up and shout, "No, no, you must be wrong!" But he stifled that urge and sat quietly, with his hands folded. "Are you sure?" he asked instead, in a quiet calm voice.

"Yes, sir. Daddy shot the Marshal."

"Then he had the shotgun in his hands when he opened the door."

"I – I guess so."

Bret proceeded cautiously. "You guess so? You're not sure?"

"No, I'm sure. He must have had his shotgun in his hands when he opened the door. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to shoot the gun before he collapsed."

Doralice looked at her brother-in-law. "Come out in the hall." The two adults walked into the hall and closed the door behind them so that the girls couldn't hear. "Puts a different spin on things, doesn't it?"

"Quite different. I think we need to see if Bart remembers it."

"Do you think Dave will have to arrest Bart? Or that the judge will want to put Bart on trial?"

Bret shook his head. "Don't know. Cole came out here with the sole purpose of killing Bart, no matter what anyone says. It was a clear case of self-defense."

"Bret, Travis was a U.S. Marshal, crazy or not crazy."

"I know. That's what I'm worried about."

"Let's go talk to Bart."

They were halfway down the hall when Bart let out a bloodcurdling scream, and the two took off running. They found him thrashing around in bed, sound asleep, and Bret proceeded to shake him gently. "Bart, wake up. You're havin' a nightmare."

Bret shook until Bart's eyes popped open. "What? Huh? Oh, Lord, I was dreamin' about Travis Cole."

"Anything useful?"Bret wondered.

"I . . . I don't know."

"Honey, get settled again and then we'll talk," Doralice attempted to soothe her husband.

A few minutes later Bart was calmer and could be talked to. "Do you remember anything more from the other day? Anything that can help us?"

"I'm not sure. Is it possible that I shot Cole?"

Doralice sat down with her husband. "It's not only possible, honey, it's probable."

"Are you sure?"

"Belle saw you, honey."

"Does Dave know?"

"Not yet."

"Do you think he'll arrest me?" Bart asked.

"He won't arrest you while you're recuperating," Doralice insisted.

"And you shot him in self-defense," Bret reminded him.

"But he was a U.S. Marshal," Bart reminded them.


	12. And So it Begins

Chapter 12 – And So It Begins

Three days went by, with Bart's health improving every day. On Monday afternoon Dave Parker rode up to see how he was doing, and to ask more questions.

The last time anyone had seen the sheriff was the day of the shootings. Dave was walking a fine line, being both the law in Little Bend and a friend of the Mavericks. He was here in both capacities today, but he needed to get more answers regarding the shooting and death of Marshal Travis Cole.

Doralice met him at the front door. "How's our boy?" was the first thing he asked.

"Getting better all the time," Doralice answered as she ushered him in. "Come upstairs and see for yourself."

Up the stairs they went and into the bedroom. Bart was once again sitting up and reading a book, but this time he had no sling on his shoulder, only the bandaging, and his wrist appeared to be moving almost normally.

"Well, I'd say that's an improvement."

"Over the last time you saw me?" Bart asked.

"Yes, sir. You feel up to answering some questions?"

"No, but I will anyway."

Dave took a seat next to the bed. Doralice sat in the corner, protectively.

"What do you remember?"

"Most of everything. I remember pickin' up the shotgun and opening the door. Cole was standing there with his double-barrel pointed right at me, and as soon as he saw me he pulled the trigger."

"What did you do next?"

Bart hesitated before answering. "I started to lose my grip on the shotgun, so I braced it against my body and pulled the triggers. Then I staggered backward and fell."

"You shot Cole?"

"I did."

"Not Doralice?"

"No."

"And you remembered this all by yourself?"

"Yes."

From over in the corner, Doralice offered, "Belle saw it."

"Belle saw it? Where was she?"

"She was comin' down the stairs," Bart finished.

"You know I'll have to question her," Dave reminded him.

"I know."

Doralice stood up. "I'll go get her, Dave."

"No, I'll go to her."

"Anything you say."

Parker followed Doralice out the door and down the hall. "You can't come in, Doralice."

"I know."

Belle was sitting on her bed; Maudie was nowhere in sight. Dave walked in and took a seat. "Belle, you know you're not in trouble, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Just tell me what you saw."

"Maudie and me were just foolin' around when we heard all the noise. She ran to the window to see what it was. I just knew it was trouble, so I ran for the stairs. I was almost to the bottom when I heard the first shotgun blast and looked up. Daddy had the shotgun in his right hand, but it was slipping, so he braced it against his right side and fired. Then he fell back and dropped the gun. It was Daddy that shot Marshal Cole, not Momma."

"And you're willing to swear to this in a court of law?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, thank you, Belle."

Back down the hall he went. "She seems fairly certain of her facts. I don't know what kind of a difference it'll make that you shot him instead of Doralice. It was self-defense, either way, but he was still a U. . We'll just have to wait and see what the judge has to say. He'll be here in two days, his name is Warren Collins. I'll come out and get whoever he needs to see, and we'll see where it goes from there. Hopefully, he'll decide against a trial and it'll all be over. That's what I recommend, I just can't promise anything."

"You've been more than fair, Dave. We want to thank you for that. We appreciate the position you're in," Bart told him.

"We've been friends for a long time, Bart, and Cole came out here lookin' for blood. I'm gonna tell the judge that, see if we can head him in the right direction."

"Do you think it will work?" Doralice asked after the sheriff was gone.

"You mean the self-defense play? I don't know, blue-eyes. It was self-defense, ain't no doubt about that, but he was a marshal. Nobody wants to remember that his sole purpose in comin' out here was to blow my head off. I guess that's up to Smithson, to make sure the judge knows. I expect he'll be out here today or tomorrow. We're gonna hafta go over all this stuff again. Maybe you oughtta send somebody into town to fetch him so we can get this over with."

Doralice nodded agreement."Good idea. I'll get Pauly to go. He's not doing anything right now."

Bart watched her walk out of the room. _Dear Lord, let this be over soon,_ he thought.


	13. Nightmares

Chapter 13 – Nightmares

Pauly returned with Smithson Talbet trailing behind. Once again Doralice answered the door and took Smithson upstairs to talk to Bart. They didn't waste any time. "I understand we have a judge on the way. Tell me what you've remembered since we last spoke."

One more time Bart reiterated the whole story, including the part about Belle seeing Bart fire the shot that killed the marshal, and when he was done the attorney shook his head. "Clearly self-defense, but the fact that he was a marshal with a valid, if incorrect, arrest warrant is the sticking point. That's where we're gonna have trouble. When I return to my office I'm going to wire the current sheriff in Silver Creek and get him to verify that Logan Duran was killed at the time of the fire and not later, the way the warrant reads. If he can confirm that we can have the warrant invalidated and the case will be dismissed."

"It can't be that easy," Bart stated.

"It can and hopefully will be. I'll be in touch tomorrow morning." And with that Smithson gathered his materials and left.

"That was quick," Doralice remarked after the attorney was gone.

"If things work out right, it might be."

XXXXXXXX

One more night spent on the settee, shivering under the afghan. She heard him in the night once, with a scream so piercing it made her jump up and run to comfort him. She knew what was happening; he was reliving the hell of that jail cell in Montana. All she could do was shake him awake and hold him until he calmed down. She sat with him while he found sleep again and then returned to the sofa downstairs, almost drifting back into slumber herself until she heard him a second time. There was no screaming this time, more a whimpering sound, and again she ran to him, holding him while he sobbed on her bosom. When he finally stopped she wiped his tears and lay down next to him, taking him in her arms and crooning to him like she did to the baby until he fell back asleep. She spent the rest of the night with him and he remained relatively still.

"Well, hello blue-eyes. When did you move back in?" He questioned her the next morning.

"Last night," was her reply.

"Is this just a visit or are you here to stay?"

"Here to stay."

Her answer made him smile. "Did I wake you last night?"

"No," she lied. "I was just missing you." If he didn't remember the nightmares, she wasn't going to remind him.

There were lines on his face that hadn't been there before, and a tremor in his voice that told her he was afraid of what was to come. They wrapped their arms around each other and drifted back to sleep for another hour, when the noise from their girls playing woke them for good.

"I love you," he whispered softly.

"Not as much as I love you," she replied.

XXXXXXXX

By the time Smithson Talbet arrived at the front door everyone was fed, bathed and dressed. Bart was able to move around more by this time, and he had installed himself on the sofa downstairs to read. Which was almost impossible with the noise from the children playing, since it was raining outdoors.

"What kind of news do you have for us, Smithson?" He asked once the lawyer had gotten settled.

"Not very good at the moment, I'm afraid. They've had four different sheriffs in Silver Creek since you were there the last time. The one we're looking for, the one that took over when Travis Cole disappeared, is currently somewhere in the hills fishing. Meantime, the current sheriff is looking through the old reports to see if he can find one that covers the fire and Dunbar's death. He's also sent somebody out after the sheriff, to bring him back to town so he can verify Logan Dunbar's death at the time of the fire as an act of self-defense. Looks like we may have to face the judge after all."

"That's what I was afraid of," Bart commented. "Do you need to talk to Belle?"

"For just a minute. I don't want to upset her if I don't have to. I just want to ask her four or five basic questions."

"I'll go get her," Doralice volunteered, and you could hear her in the kitchen. "Belle, can you come in here for a moment?"

Belle was introduced to the attorney and to Bart's surprise Smithson began a conversation with his daughter about horses and her pony. Her father was confused at first and then he realized the lawyer was trying to make the young girl feel comfortable. Once they seemed to have established a rapport, Smithson explained he had a few questions for her about the shooting, and she seemed much more at ease with him. When she'd answered everything for him he sent her back to the kitchen and turned to her parents, waiting anxiously on the sofa.

"She'll do fine. Got a good head on her shoulders; she's determined to tell the truth, and fortunately that's in our favor. I'm still hoping we can get through this without a trial. We'll have the answer to that in a couple of days, I guess. Don't worry about this. No matter who he was, he shot you with malice aforethought. He had no intention of taking you back to jail, and we have plenty of witnesses to substantiate that claim. If ANYBODY comes out to talk to you or take you back to see the judge, don't say a word to them. Sit tight and send for me. Even if it's your friend Dave. Understood?"

"Understood," Bart answered, and Doralice nodded.

Smithson made his exit and the Mavericks looked at each other. "Let's pray that's all there is to it."

"Amen."

XXXXXXXX

That wasn't all there was to it, of course. That night she joined him in bed and they held each other tightly, praying that no more nightmares would plague him. Some did, but they seemed to be minor, and he slept through them. She could feel him tense up once or twice and she was awake instantly, to calm and comfort him. She was afraid to imagine the hellish scenes playing out in his head, and she refused to do anything that would make him remember what happened in Montana. From now on she would keep him as close to her as she could and hope that would be enough. Her love and support were all she had to give.

1


	14. Here Come Da Judge

Chapter 14 – Here Come Da Judge

Two days passed. Bart's sleep was relatively peaceful, based on the hope that this would all be cleared up soon. By the morning of the third day, however, it appeared the peace was over.

Bret had gone into Little Bend to order some medicine that one of the horses needed and he stopped by the sheriff's office. When he walked in he found Dave talking to a man he'd never seen before, and he heard just enough conversation before he ducked back outside to realize it was the Judge. Warren Collins was somewhere around Bret's age, seemingly solid of build and broad of shoulder. He was about the same height as Bret, with curly brown hair and glasses. He looked like a man that brooked no nonsense.

Bret walked across the street and ducked into the Wells Fargo office. When he saw the judge leave, some fifteen or twenty minutes later, he waited until the streets were clear and then returned to the sheriff's office. "I assume that was the judge."

"Yes, it was," Dave answered with a grim look on his face.

"You don't look real happy about it." The fleeting expression he'd seen on Dave was enough to worry him.

"He's tough. I just hope he's fair. He wants to see all the paperwork I have on the case this afternoon, then he'll decide who he wants to talk to. We're still waiting on any kind of information from Silver Creek, although I understand they've located the sheriff we want to talk to and he's on his way back to town."

"At least that's good," Bret answered.

"We'll see."

When Bret got back to the ranch he stopped at Bart's house and relayed what he'd heard and seen. Bart listened with a poker face, nodded appropriately, and waited until Bret was gone before he said anything to Doralice.

"That doesn't sound good, baby. I guess we just have to wait and see what the judge has to say."

XXXXXXXX

That night the terrors returned. His sleep was restless, disturbed, sporadic. She rolled over in bed once to find him shivering and moaning, and she pulled him close and wrapped him in her embrace until he settled down. Later he was wet with sweat, and she got out of bed and wet a washcloth, wiping him down over and over.

Everything was peaceful for a while, but around three o'clock he woke her up, screaming out "Travis! Travis Cole!" over and over until she was finally forced to wake him.

"What? Huh?" was all he could get out at first.

"Wake up, honey, wake up!"

"What? What was I doing?" he questioned.

"Yelling out for Travis Cole. I kept shaking you and I couldn't get you to wake up."

"I'm sorry, blue eyes."

"You don't have to apologize to me. I know you can't control what's goin' on. Just try to go back to sleep now and get some rest."

"Okay. I am . . . "

"I know, sorry. Shh."

She held his body and rocked him until she heard him softly snoring. She didn't know how long this could go on. He was suffering recurring nightmares of the time Cole locked him up in jail for no reason, and there was nothing she could do to prevent them, or protect him from them. She knew the judge was going to want to know about the hallucinations, and he wasn't about to explain the terror that overtook him in his sleep. She didn't know what to do to ease his suffering and pain, so she did the only thing she could; hold him close and love him.

XXXXXXX

The morning dawned bright and clear, and Bart woke in a seemingly good mood. Of course, he would never do anything that would deliberately reveal what was going on in his sleep, not unless he was absolutely forced to. Unfortunately, that day might be closer than anyone expected.

Late that afternoon Dave Parker showed up at their front door. "Dave?" Bart questioned when he opened the front door. "Come in."

"He wants to question you, Bart."

"When?"

"Tomorrow at ten o'clock. In the sheriff's office."

"Do you have to come get me?"

"No, he'll let you come in by yourself. He wants you to come alone."

"No, Dave," Doralice quickly put her foot down.

"I told him that you wouldn't let him come alone, Doralice, and he just shrugged his shoulders. I guess he thought it was worth a try."

"We'll be there." Once Dave had ridden off, Bart turned to his wife. "I want to get in around nine o'clock, so we can stop at Smithson's office first."

"Good idea."

"Listen, blue eyes, I ain't gonna sleep tonight, so there's no sense stayin' up here in bed. I'll take a book downstairs and you can get some sleep. I know I've been drivin' you crazy. And I don't want any arguing. Agreed?"

Reluctantly she answered, "Agreed."

That night Doralice lay in bed, wondering just what the judge would ask Bart the next day, until she finally drifted off to sleep. Bart sat downstairs on the settee, covered with the same afghan Doralice had used, reading 'Little Dorrit,' by Chares Dickens. There were numerous people in and out of prison in England, and Bart shuddered every time another one went in.

1


	15. Just Call Me Warren

Chapter 15 – Just Call me Warren

They were up early, since neither had slept last night, and decided to eat breakfast in town. Bart hitched the horse to the buggy, then put on his sling and let Doralice drive. They went straight to Sawyers and drank endless coffee until their breakfasts arrived. Bart didn't have much of an appetite but Doralice did; she ate hers and half of his.

They still had time to waste, so they walked down the boardwalk to Smithson Talbet's office, looking in shop windows as they strolled past. Several of the shop owners emerged to wish Bart well. Most of them had known him his whole life, and they were all on his side.

It was near nine o'clock as they reached the attorney's office, and the door was unlocked. Smithson came out of his office to greet them. "I was wondering when you were going to get here. Glad to see you left plenty of time." He paused for a moment and said, "Ah, Doralice. . . "

"I know, Smithson. I don't care. The judge can't keep me from being with my husband."

"No, he can't. Well, come in and lets' talk."

Once the Mavericks were seated, Smithson began. He reiterated everything he'd told them the other day at the ranch, with the addition of one directive. "When the judge asks you a question, hesitate before you answer. That way if he asks something I don't want you to answer, I'll have time to stop you before you do."

Bart looked bewildered at first, until Smithson told him, "There may be things I don't want you to answer just yet. I think that's about it, do you want to walk back?"

"I'm ready if you are."

"Good. Better to be a little early. Shows an innocence; a desire the get this over with as quickly as possible."

Bart held his wife's chair and the three of them left Smithson's office, and then he locked the outside office doors. They made their way up the other side of the street and the greetings and well-wishes were repeated. When they entered the jail, a great roar went up from the shopkeepers and townsfolk in the street, the judge even got up to see what was going on. "Just the people that live and work here in Little Bend, Judge. Most of them have known Bart since he was born. They just wanted to show their support and belief in him."

"Well," was all the judge said, but secretly he was impressed. Hard to believe that a man so well-liked could be a cold-blooded killer, even twenty years ago, much less now. He would just have to keep that opinion to himself until he had all the facts. "Mr. Maverick, I asked you to come alone, with the exception of your attorney, of course."

"Sorry, Judge, when I said 'to have and to hold, forever and ever,' I meant in all circumstances. That includes before judges. Mr. Maverick goes nowhere without Mrs. Maverick."

"I see, well, please take seats, the both of you. Now Mr. Maverick, this is an informal question and answer session, so I'm not going to swear you in. I'm just trying to get 'the lay of the land,' so to speak. Mr. Talbet, you can object or stop Mr. Maverick from answering any time you feel like it. Are we ready?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Just call me Warren."

"And I'm Bart."

"Alright, Bart, when was the first time you ever met Travis Cole?"

"The day my brother and I arrived in Silver Creek for Jody's and his wedding, June twelfth."

"Did you shake hands when you met?"

"Yes."

"And what were the first words he said to you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"Alright, let's move on. When was the first time you suspected all was not well between your cousin and her fiancé?"

"Within a few minutes. I walked across the hall to my brother's room and told him somethin' wasn't right."

"And just when did you find out what that something was?"

"The day after our arrival."

"From whom?"

"From my cousin, Jody."

"And what was it?"

"When she'd agreed to marry Cole, she'd also agreed to sell the saloon. But she'd changed her mind; she didn't want to sell the saloon."

"She told you this?"

"Yes."

"Had she told Cole?"

"No, she wanted to talk to me first."

"To get your advice?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell her?"

"If that was what she wanted, to tell Cole."

"Did she?"

"No, she was afraid he'd call off the wedding."

"What came next?'

"She struggled with the decision for a couple days."

"Struggled how?"

"She talked to different people, and slowly came to the conclusion that to keep the saloon she was going to have to call off the wedding."

"And did she?"

"Yes, finally."

"And how did the Marshal react?"

"He flew into a rage and blamed it all on me."

"And how did you react?"

Bart shrugged. "I figured it was his problem, not mine."

The judge looked at his watch. "My goodness, it's past time for lunch. Let's take a break, shall we. Say two hours for lunch? We can resume at three o'clock. Sheriff, would you join me for lunch?"

"Uh, sure, your honor. We can go to Sawyer's, right up the street."

Bart turned to Doralice. "Mamacita's?"

Doralice nodded. Bart held her chair and they followed the Judge and the Sheriff out the door. Bart was glad for the break; from now on things could be difficult. He stumbled on the boardwalk and Doralice grabbed him to steady him, then they continued to Mamacita's. They took a table in the back and ordered coffee.


	16. The Questions Continue

Chapter 16 – The Questions Continue

Once again, Bart ate very little. He was afraid to fill his stomach lest it came back to haunt him. They took their time walking back to the sheriff's office and arrived about ten of three to find the judge and Parker already returned. Smithson hurried in at the last minute.

"Alright, let's see, we'd gotten to the point where Marshal Cole had been informed that there was to be no wedding, and he blamed you. Didn't he threaten you?"

"Not directly. He told Jody that I would 'pay for my sins.'"

"He thought you had caused her decision because she thought so much of your 'persuasion.' What did he mean?"

Bart cleared his throat and shifted in his chair but there was no reaction from his attorney. "Travis had seen some very innocent situations and misread them."

"Such as?"

"When Jody was struggling with her decision, one time she burst into tears. I put my arms around her to comfort her until she stopped crying. Travis walked in on us and left without our knowledge that he was there. He didn't know she was crying at the time."

"And what about the night she spent in your hotel room?"

Smithson grabbed Bart's arm. "Could you rephrase the question, your honor?"

The judge looked a little taken aback. "I'm not sure I know how, counselor."

"That's alright, Smithson, I know what he means. Jody had joined me in my suite at the hotel for dinner. We had wine and a very fine steak, too much of both, and Jody lay down on the settee for a nap. She looked so comfortable I didn't have the heart to wake her, so I covered her with a blanket and let her sleep, then went to bed myself. In my own bed, alone. Unfortunately, we both slept all night. As I said, too much steak and too much wine. The next morning she was horrified that she had spent the night on my couch and I took her back to the saloon. Travis saw us leave the hotel and assumed . . ."

"Yes, I understand. What was the marshal's next move? Didn't he assault you?"

"Yes."

"Explain."

"I was gettin' ready to leave Dr. Beckam Dooley's office. Marshal Cole pulled me outside and sucker punched me. He hit me in the jaw and the stomach, and left me lying on the boardwalk."

"And what was the result of that assault?"

"I had a swollen jaw and a large purple bruise."

"Jody urged you to leave town, didn't she?"

"Yes, after she laid into Travis for attacking me when I had nothing to do with the decision to call off the wedding."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was afraid Travis would hurt her if I left. He was looking for someone to take his anger out on, and if I wasn't there I was afraid it would be Jody."

"Judge Collins, if I may interrupt. It's getting late in the afternoon, and this next area you're going to get into could take some time. Why don't we stop for the day and resume tomorrow at ten o'clock?"

"I think that's an excellent idea, Counselor. Tomorrow at ten."

The judge wasted no time in leaving, and Smithson hustled Bart and Doralice out of there as fast as he could.

"Thanks, Smithson. I was about exhausted," Bart explained.

"Tomorrow's going to be the day of decision, so be prepared. There's no need to come to my office. I'll meet you at the jail, ten o'clock sharp."

As the attorney walked away, Bart turned to his wife. "Do you want to get something to eat? We could go to the hotel. They've got that soup I like."

"Can we just go home? I'm tired, and Lily Mae promised to make something light for dinner."

"Sure, blue eyes, we can do that. You drive?"

Doralice nodded, and Bart helped her up in the buggy. It was quiet all the way home, and when they pulled up in front of the house, he took the reins from her and said, "Leave it. Lucien promised to come up and put the rig away."

Once they got in the house they found that Lily had made chicken soup for supper, which was perfect for tonight. Bart actually consumed two bowls before retiring to the bedroom, and Doralice spent some time with the younger children. She found her husband in the bedroom, sitting quietly in a chair. "What are you up to?" she asked.

"Thinkin' about what I'm gonna say tomorrow."

"Is it gonna be that bad?"

Bart looked at her with sadness. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." Long silence. "Talkin' about it is not somethin' I look forward to doing."

"Let's just try to get some rest tonight. We'll deal with tomorrow when it gets here."

"Alright." Bart began to undress and decided to walk down the hall first. He ducked his head into the twins bedroom and found both girls sound asleep. He hadn't gotten to spend any significant time with them, and he missed them. He made his way to Maudie's bed and pulled up the covers, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. A few moments later he did the same for Belle. He thought about when they were little tiny babies and Maudie cried all the time . . . it all seemed so long ago. Now they were almost grown. Would he get to see them turn into beautiful young ladies, or would they have to come to maturity with only their mother to guide them? _Dear Lord, please let me be here for them_.

"Bart?" Doralice called softly from the doorway.

"We made beautiful babies," he whispered as he joined her.

"Yes, we did. They're going to be beautiful young women, too. Come on, papa, time for us to get some sleep."

As she climbed into bed beside him, she lifted up her own prayer. _Please let me keep him, Lord. I can't do this alone. Don't take him away from us._


	17. One Down, One To Go

Chapter 17 – One Down, One to Go

"Good morning gentlemen and lady. Are we ready to get started? Good, let's begin. Bart, you were about to tell us what Marshal Cole's next retaliation against you was. I take it that it was quite complicated?"

Bart shifted in his chair. "Not really, Warren. Cole hit me in the head with his pistol, knocked me out and threw me in a jail cell."

"A particular jail cell?"

"Yes, the cell I spent several months in the first time we were in Silver Creek."

"Did he arrest you?"

"He tried, but there was nothin' to arrest me for. That's why he used the butt end of his gun."

"Why were you in that jail cell to begin with?"

"I was accused of murdering Edgar Pike, my aunt's consort."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Then why . . . ?"

"Because I was the most likely suspect."

"And were you charged with his murder?"

"I was. And tried. And found guilty, based on the most circumstantial evidence."

"Obviously you weren't hung."

"No, but I watched them build my gallows. I was very ill at the time. I almost died twice as the result of a severe pistol-whipping and an unfortunate aspirin allergy."

"Who were the actual perpetrators?"

"The three men that had given me the beating and almost killed me."

"And who caught the real killers?"

"My brother Bret and cousin Beau."

"Not the sheriff of Silver Creek?"

"No."

"And when did this happen?"

"When I was on the third step of the gallows."

"And you were freed?"

"Not immediately. But that same day, yes, and the verdict was reversed."

"Back to the incident with the Marshal. Did he arrest you?"

"He tried, and I protested there was nothing to arrest me for. That's when he cold-cocked me with his pistol. Threw me over his shoulders and carried me, unconscious, to jail."

"To the same cell you'd occupied on the previous occasion?"

"Yes. I'd had an abject fear of jails from then on."

"And when you came to?"

"I realized where I was and panicked. The lights were out and there was no one in the entire jail but me."

"What happened then?" Bart shuddered visibly. "If this is too difficult for you . . . "

Doralice leaned over and grabbed his hand. He looked at her with nothing but love and sat up straight. "No. I can explain. Like I said, I panicked. I screamed for Cole and got no answer, and I realized I was alone, all locked up in the same cell I'd spent months in. I rattled the bars and the door. I had to get out. I fell to my knees and vomited; I was shakin' with cold and sweatin' at the same time. I tried to get up but couldn't, and I vomited again but got nothin'. I finally got hold of the cot and pulled myself back up. I passed out eventually. I don't remember anything else until I heard Bret's voice. I woke up in the corner of the cell, on the flooring and whimpering. I don't know how Bret got me out. Next thing I remember I was in bed in the hotel room. I drifted in and out of consciousness for three or four days. When I finally did stay awake, it was like bein' in a fog. I was that way for weeks. I couldn't laugh, I couldn't smile; all I wanted to do was sit in my hotel room or play poker."

When Bart finished there was a stunned silence in the room. Finally the judge asked, "When did you come out of this 'fog'?"

"The night of the fire."

"The night you killed Logan Duran."

"The night I shot Logan Duran in self-defense."

"And when was the last time you saw Travis Cole?"

"That same night. Until the day he showed up at my front door, almost two weeks ago."

"Never in any of the years since?"

"Never once."

"Alright, Bart, that's all the questions I have. For now. I want to go over the things you've told me. I'm dismissing the warrant that was issued in Montana. It's quite obvious that you didn't murder Durant. I'm going to let the murder charges for Cole stand for the time being. He was a United States Marshal, and I'm not ready to do anything with them just yet. Give me until Friday, and we'll meet again here at ten o'clock. I'll have more questions for you at that time. I'll also hear all the witnesses we have, except your daughter Belle. Have Lucien Walters and your brother Bret come in separately, they shouldn't ride in with you. If you have any others, have them come along too. I'll see you all Friday morning."

Judge Collins left, and Smithson turned to me. "Tell everybody at the ranch I want them in your front room tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, and to not discuss it with each other. Have everybody there that so much as saw Cole ride by. I'll interview them one at a time. Sorry to do that to you, Doralice, but it's necessary. That includes you. See you tomorrow." And the attorney left in a hurry.

"Well, blue-eyes. Tomorrow should be fun, eh?"

"You have a strange sense of humor, gamblin' man. Lily Mae's gonna be one busy lady."

"Ain't she, though? Let's go home, I'm hungry."

1


	18. Life and Death

Chapter 18 – Life and Death

They'd talked to all the potential witnesses and explained about the meeting the next day with Smithson Talbet. They'd told Lily Mae about food for everyone, and they'd eaten supper themselves, then retired for the night. She was surprised he'd surrendered to sleep so easily, but of course it couldn't last. There was too much bottled up inside, too much roiling inside him; too much damage had been done. Sometime in the night he left the bed and wandered out to the small balcony that adjoined their bedroom. He leaned over the railing and stared at the ground below, and his mind drifted back to those days in the north and all the agony and turmoil caused by the marshal. It was real to him again; he could feel the ache in his head, taste the blood and wool blanket in his mouth, feel the bile rise up in his throat and spill out over the railing. No matter this was almost twenty years later, his body and psyche felt every ache, every pain, every trauma that he felt that night.

He grabbed the balcony railing and tried to fight it off . . . told himself this couldn't be happening again, told himself it wasn' t real and that it had to go away, told himself he couldn't stand one more moment of the nightmare his life had become. He was freezing, but his body was dripping sweat, his legs shook and he held on to the iron bars for dear life. That night there was the blessed relief of unconsciousness, but there was none this night. His head continued to pound as his heart raced. He couldn't stand much more of this . . . and he stared at the ground below, knowing that if he could just fall to that blessed ground all the pain would stop, the shaking, the sweating, the horrible images that kept repeating in his head over and over and over . . .

She found him that way, leaning dangerously over the railing and staring at the ground below. "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

"I can't. There's too much pain, too much hurt inside me, to go on living. I can't stay here anymore, it hurts too much."

She poured every ounce of pain she could verbalize into her next few words. "You can't leave me. You owe me."

He stared at her, startled. She wasn't pleading with him anymore; she was demanding. "I owe you?"

"That's right, you owe me. I bore your children, I nursed you through sickness and injury, I made a home for you, I comforted you when you needed it. I loved you. You owe me."

He stood deathly still for minutes while he thought it over. She couldn't breathe until he spoke again. "I suppose you're right. I do owe you." He looked wistfully at the ground below. "So close, and so far away." He turned back to her and held out his hand. "Take my hand . . . lead me back to the living, sweet lady." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to her.

"You don't belong there, in the dark. You belong in the light, with me. It doesn't matter what happened there, it was so long ago. He tried to hurt you, to blame you for his pain, to inflict the damage on you that had been inflicted on him. You were the innocent in it all, the one that never should have been hurt. You've suffered enough, sweet boy. Come with me now, come back to everything that's ours. "Don't let the darkness touch you again." She kept hold of his hand and led him back inside, back to safety, back to life.

XXXXXXXX

They didn't speak of that dark night again. In the morning she opened her eyes to find his brown ones watching her blue ones, and from the love in those brown orbs she knew everything was alright. "Morning," she greeted him.

"Good morning. Hungry?"

"Starving. How about you?"

"Ravenous. Let's go get breakfast."

"Wonderful idea."

She got out of bed and put on a dressing gown; he donned a robe. Hand in hand they went down the stairs until they reached the kitchen, breakfast, and coffee.

"Did you all sleep good last night?" Lily asked

She didn't see the look that passed between Bart andDoralice. "Just fine, Lily, just fine. We'll be ready when everybody starts to arrive."

"Ready for what, Mr.B?"

"Why, to help in the kitchen."

Lily Mae just laughed. "I don't need any help, Mr. B. I'll do just fine."

"You have to be in there too, Lily."

"See that big pot on the stove, Mr. B?

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's lunch, already cookin'."

By eight-thirty, most everyone had arrived. Bret, Lucien, Slim, Dan, and Jimmy had all gathered in the front room. Lily Mae joined them just as Smithson got there. Once he got everyone seated, the attorney began.

"All the judge is going to do is ask you questions about what you saw or heard. If you don't remember, tell him you don't remember. Don't lie, don't elaborate. Don't give him your opinion. Don't give him more than he asks for. It's not your job to prove Bart innocent, it's simply your job to answer the questions. The facts will prove him innocent, so always answer truthfully. That's all gentlemen. And Miss Lily. Get into town as best you can. You will be paid for today."

"Bret, can I see you for a moment?" Smithson wanted to have a word with Bret separately.

"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?"

"Judge Collins may want to question you further since you saw Bart in the jail cell and afterward. Don't be surprised if he does."

"No problem. I'll never forget what he looked like when we took him out of there."

"Good man."

Bart and Doralice followed their usual routine – they walked to the barn, Bart hitched the horse to the buggy, put on his sling and handed the buggy reins to Doralice. She climbed inside, and they headed to Little Bend.

By the time they got there the judge had already questioned Slim, Dan and Jimmy. Slim and Dan had heard the marshal riding in at top speed; Jimmy had actually seen Cole racing towards the house, shotgun in his hands. Judge Collins had dismissed the three of them and was about to begin questioning Lucien.

"Tell me what you saw and heard, Lucien."

"I heard a terrible racket, and it was comin' our way," Lucien replied. It was Marshal Cole, "and he was really loud, yellin' Bart! Bart Maverick! I've got you now!' and wavin' that shotgun in the air. He rode right up to the door, jumped down off his horse, and almost knocked the door in. As soon as the front door opened, the Marshal let go with a blast from that gun."

"You're sure that Cole was the first to fire his gun?"

"No doubt about it, your honor."

"Thank you, Lucien, you're dismissed. You can return home."

"Next I'd like to talk to, Miss Lily Mae. Lily Mae, what did you see and hear?"

"Well, like I said before, I heard a racket, but that didn't rattle me. There's always a racket. Then when I heard the second shotgun go off I went runnin'. Mr. B was already on the ground and Miss Doralice was a hoverin' over him. That's all I seen."

"Did you see the shotgun on the ground?"

"Yes, sir, but I don't remember where it was."

"Alright, that's all, Miss Lily. You're dismissed."

"Mr. Bret Maverick, please."


	19. Glassy-Eyed and Shaking

Chapter 19 – Glassy-Eyed and Shaking

Bret walked into the room and a hush fell over it. Bart had forgotten what a truly impressive figure his brother cut when he wanted to. Two inches taller and twenty pounds heavier and a lot of bravado, that was his brother. For the first time Bart noticed that the walk was a little slower, the hair a little more grey. Then Bret looked his way and smiled; the dimples were still there and he was as handsome as he ever was. He could still set the hearts fluttering when those dimples appeared, by the roomful. But that's not what he was here for, and his face returned to a more serious expression.

"Have a seat, Mr. Maverick. We're all using first names here, I'm Warren. May I call you Bret?"

"Certainly."

"Now, it's my understanding that you were at the scene of the shooting. Please tell me what you saw and heard that afternoon." The judge stopped shuffling papers and gave Bret his full attention.

Bret cleared his throat before beginning. "I heard Cole's horse before I saw him. He was ridin' like somebody lit him on fire, wavin' that shotgun in the air. He was barely off his horse before he was poundin' on the front door, yellin' that Bart was under arrest. Saw the front door open and Cole fired both barrels of that shotgun, then I saw him hit and fall. By the time I got to the place where he went down, there was already a pool of blood. I looked in the door and saw Bart on the ground with his wife hoverin' over him. Lucien Walters and me stood guard over the body until the sheriff could get there. Then I went into the house to see to my brother. That's all."

"When the sheriff arrived you told him you hadn't seen anything. Why did you lie to him?"

"I didn't lie. Dave asked if I'd seen the shooting. I hadn't seen the actual shooting, so I told him 'no.' Wait, I think what I actually said was 'nope.'"

The judge read from the paper he held in his hand before asking his next question. "I'd like to ask you some questions about that time back in Silver Creek. Tell me what you found when you opened the door to the cell your brother had spent the night in."

Bret sat very still for a few minutes, then he cleared his throat again and shut his eyes. "When Beckham Dooley and me finally got the cell doors open, Bart was huddled against the back wall of the cell. He still had hold of the bars on the window; he didn't know who I was. He reached out with his hand and I reached for him, but as soon as our fingers touched he pulled away. I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I opened my arms and walked towards him. When I finally reached him, he more or less fell into my arms. At first he was stiff as a board, but eventually I heard a gasp and he collapsed into my arms. I held onto him until he was steady enough to lean on me and walk out."

"And when you took him out of jail, Marshal Cole was there, wasn't he? And you had to walk past him?"

"That's correct."

"And how did your brother react?"

"There was no reaction. It was like he didn't recognize Cole."

"And how long was he like this? Unable to recognize people?"

"Around twelve hours."

"And when he came out of it?"

"He was glassy-eyed and shaking, for at least the next thirty-six hours."

"And he was attended by a physician during that time?"

"Yes, Beckham Dooley."

"When that thirty-six hour period was over, did he return to normal? That is, was he like himself again?"

Bret shook his head. "No, he wasn't. He didn't smile, or laugh, or tell jokes, or seem to enjoy anything."

"And he was this way for how long?"

"Until after the fire burned down our saloon. About five or six weeks."

"Alright, that's all the questions I have for you, Bret. Thank you for your honest answers. You are dismissed." Bret got up and left the jail; he went outside to wait for Bart and Dorlice.

The room sat in silence for several minutes while the judge looked over his notes. Finally he looked up and spoke to Bart. "I see here that both your twin daughters, Isabelle and Maude, were on the witness list. I won't be questioning them. I have more than enough information to make my decision. Please be here in the sheriff's office in two days; that's Wednesday, at nine o'clock. I will render my decision at that time."

Bart wanted to talk to Dave Parker for a minute, so Doralice went outside and sat with Bret.

"Can we talk now, Dave?"

"Yep, finally."

"Did he ask you about Cole's state of mind before he left here that day?"

"Yeah, we had a long discussion about all the things that had happened when the Marshal was here, and how bent on revenge he was that afternoon."

"How do you think it went?"

"I think it went pretty well. Anybody could plainly see there ain't no reason to hold you over for trial. But you just never know with these judges. You got thirty-six hours to sweat it out, partner."

They shook hands, for the first time in days, and Bart joined his wife and his brother outside. "What's Dave got to say?" Bret asked.

"Thinks it went well. Just gotta wait, I guess."

"Smithson came out when the judge dismissed everybody. He'd like you to come on down to his office."

"You wanna come with us?" Bart asked as he took Doralice's hand.

"Nope, I'm goin' on home. I have to prove to my wife that I still live there."

"Give her our best."

Bret nodded and mounted his horse.

"Wadda you think Smithson wants to see us for?"

"I don't know, gamblin' man. I guess we better go find out."

They found the attorney waiting for them. "Come in, you two, and have a seat." Once they were seated, he began. "I was visited by the town council yesterday afternoon. They brought me something I wasn't expecting. At least not from them."

"Oh, dear. A notice that we were no longer wanted in Little Bend?" Bart smirked when he asked the question, but he half expected it.

"No. It seems that your manager over at Maude's, Billy Sunday, went around to all the town merchants and took up a collection."

"What kind of a collection?" Bart was almost afraid to ask. They weren't poor, by any means, but Smithson's bill would put a strain on their assets. Still . . .

"A collection to help pay your legal fees. Seems he felt you shouldn't have to pay for an attorney to defend you, when you shouldn't have been charged with anything."

"Oh dear, I'll have to have a talk with Billy."

"Bart, the town council thought it was a good idea. They kicked in what the merchants were short, and the result is . . ."

Bart was almost afraid to hear the results.

" . . . you don't owe me a thing."

"Uh, what?" Doralice asked. Her husband just sat there with his mouth open.

"Your bill is paid in full."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Don't you know how much this town thinks of you? Wasn't that cheering to boost your spirits the day this started enough to tell you how proud the townsfolk are of you? You and your brother started out as what some people would call 'tin-horn gamblers,' and you made yourselves into respected members of the community. Be proud that you're so well liked."

"Smithson, we can't accept this."

"You should, Bart, you haven't seen my bill."

"That much, huh?"

"That much."

"I . . . I don't know what to say."

"Say thank you, Bart," Doralice suggested.

"Thank you."

"Can we go home now, my love?" His wife asked.

"I think we better, blue-eyes. Somebody in town might see me and want their money back."


	20. By the Skin of Your Teeth

Chapter 20 – By the Skin of Your Teeth

"Based on the premise that you can't please all of the people all of the time, I think we did a pretty good job of pleasing enough people by living our lives the way we saw fit. Pappy went his own way and taught us to do the same, and I think we've done a pretty good job of it." That was Bret's assessment of the townsfolk paying for Bart's legal fees; Bart wasn't sure he understood all of it but he got the gist of what Bret was saying.

The brothers and their wives were eating breakfast at Sawyer's on Wednesday morning, preparing to go across the street to the jail for Judge Collin's verdict. A kind of peace had descended on Bart in the last two days, and a calm that Doralice hadn't seen in ages. He'd accepted his fate, whatever it might be, and placed his faith in God and the truth. He was the one that invited Bret and Ginny to come with them. He wanted his brother and sister-in-lawe wanted his britherHe

to be with them when the decision was reached, especially if the judge bound him over for trial. He didn't want Doralice to go home alone. They hadn't gotten to see much of Ginny with three little ones so close together in age, and Bart had especially missed her. He and the ex-Pinkerton detective had been particularly close at one time; they worked well together.

"Remember when we were in St. Louis? That seems so long ago," Ginny remarked.

"That's because it was," Bart laughed.

"I remember what you looked like in that green dress," Bret said between swallows of coffee. "Do you still have that?"

"Yes, sir, and what's more I can still fit in it. We should go to the opera in Claytonville sometime. I can think of a beautiful red dress that Doralice had . . . wouldn't we be a sight?"

"I think that's a fabulous idea. We spend enough time talking gibberish to little people," Doralice added.

"Opera? If that's what I have to do to see that dress again, I'm ready to go tonight."

Bart listened to the banter back and forth and smiled. He hoped everything would turn out alright and it would all be over this morning. No, he prayed that everything would turn out alright. He sighed and squeezed his wife's hand. She deserved so much more than he'd given her. If she wanted to go to the opera, he'd be happy to take her.

Doralice watched his face and saw that he was worrying about her again. She checked his watch and knew it was time to go. Bart reached for the check and Bret snatched it out of his hands. "No, no, little brother, this one is mine. You can get the check when we go to the opera. How about this Friday? I'll get tickets and earplugs and the girls can get dressed up to celebrate."

"Let's go see what Judge Collins has to say before we start making plans, Bret."

His brother got suddenly sober. "Alright, but he's going to set you free."

"I hope so."

The four Mavericks walked across the street and filed into the jail. Judge Collins was already there and seated. Ginny was introduced and seats were taken. The Judge cleared his throat and began.

"A twenty-year-old vendetta is what's brought us here today. There is a preponderance of evidence that Logan Duran was killed in the commission of a robbery. He was not hunted down and murdered, as Marshal Travis Cole would have had us believe. There was no need or reason for the warrant issued in Montana for the arrest of Bart Maverick. Therefore the original warrant is dismissed.

"That brings us to the present matter. There is little doubt that Marshal Cole came to Little Bend, Texas with one thing in mind, and one thing only. And that was to take Mr. Maverick back to Montana so that he could kill him. Whether Marshal Cole was of sound mind or not is debatable, but he did show up at the Maverick's front door and fired first. Therefore I find that the shooting of Travis Cole was in self-defense. No trial is warranted. The shooting of a United States Marshal cannot, however, go unpunished. Therefore I find the defendant guilty of killing a U.S. Marshal, and sentence him to twenty years in federal prison."

Doralice gasped. Ginny began to cry. Bart sat stoically, with his best poker face in place, until Judge Collins finished his sentencing. "Such sentence to be suspended effective immediately."

The judge stood up hastily. "I hope you can forgive me for frightening you, but I cannot let the killing of a U. go unpunished. Even when he's shot in self-defense. That was the only way I could handle the situation."

Bart reached out and touched the judge's sleeve. "Thank you, your honor."

The judge tipped his hat and left. The assemblage remained in their seats for several minutes, deadly still. "By the skin of your teeth, little brother. By the skin of your teeth."

tbc


	21. No Regrets

Chapter 21 – No Regrets

The knocking at the door was loud and persistent. "Bart, can you get the door?" Doralice called from the kitchen, where she and Lily Mae were making cookies for the church bake sale.

"Oh, no. You know what happened the last time I answered the door."

Doralice shook her head. "Travis Cole is dead, Bart."

"I don't care. I ain't answerin' the door."

She wiped off her hands and went to the door. Bart was once again sitting on the settee, reading a book. Normally he'd be out in the barn, working with some of the new foals, but after what he'd been through he'd decided to take some time off. She couldn't blame him, either for the time off or for not answering the door.

"Were you sleepin'?" Bret asked as he entered.

"I'm not answerin' the door," Bart replied.

"Afraid of what you might find?"

"Damn straight. Wouldn't you be?"

"Probably. I just came by to tell you I got the tickets for the opera for Friday. Claytonville's got a new steakhouse named the Cattleman's Club and I made reservations for supper at five o'clock. The opera is at eight. We'll pick you two up around three thirty. And yes, Ginny is wearin' the dress."

"I hate to disappoint you two, but I can't get in the red dress. And before you all start laughin,' just remember that I've had six babies; Ginny only had two. But I promise to wear somethin' equally as nice. I've seen that green dress."

After Bret left Bart questioned Doralice about the red dress. "I can still get in it," she answered. "I just didn't want to wear it. We'd look like a pair of Christmas ornaments. I'm wearin' that blue silk dress you bought for me."

"Oh, yes," Bart answered. "I remember that dress."

"Now can I go back to the cookies?"

"Yes, ma'am. I have to make a quick trip into Little Bend."

"Little Bend? Whatever for?"

"Just never-you-mind. I'll be back soon."

XXXXXXX

They were getting ready on Friday afternoon when Bart pulled out a silver package wrapped with a blue bow. "What's this?" Doralice asked.

"Open it and find out."

She had trouble taking her eyes off him. He was dressed in a midnight black suit with a silver vest and a black tie. He hadn't gotten dressed up in a long time, and she was enjoying the sight. Finally she tore her eyes off him and unwrapped the package. Inside was something she'd seen in one of the shop windows as they walked the boardwalk in Little Bend. A silver silk shawl with silver fringe, she'd paused only long enough to find out the price, then walked on when she realized how expensive it was. "Oh my God, Bart, the shawl! But it . . . it cost so much!"

"And worth every penny, darlin'. It'll look gorgeous with that blue silk dress."

"I . . . I don't know what to say," she commented as she pulled it across her shoulders and whirled around.

"Say thank-you."

"I love you, Bart Maverick."

"Not as much as I love you, Doralice Maverick."

XXXXXXXX

When they were coming out of the opera, Bret asked him a question. "Now that it's all over, do you have any regrets about what you went through?"

Bart pulled Doralice close and gave his brother his answer. "No regrets."

The End


End file.
